Just Drive
by couldbefake
Summary: Mistakes are made, people get hurt but in the end just try not to do anything irreversible. John and Sherlock fight again but is this it? How many mistakes can John take stacked up on his shoulders? Maybe if he leaves he won't feel so weighed down. This is all well and good but why isn't Sherlock answering his phone?


During the last month Sherlock had been growing steadily more socially unaware. But today was the worst. It was the biggest fight of their lives and the biggest mistake of Sherlock's. He sent Johns sister to jail, of all things this was Johns breaking point. He had the nerve to tell him she would be better off without the drink in jail. It tipped him way over the edge that John didn't know he'd been so dangerously hanging off.  
"Sherlock you can't say that you - you machine!"  
Sherlock remained his calm, unaffected composure and it made Johns blood boil. "I need to be alone Sherlock. Just go to your room." Sherlock scoffed. "I am not some juvenile delinquent John that is hardly suitable." John was one sentence away from punching him between the eyes. "You know what? You aren't a kid so you can handle yourself for a few hours." John opened the door. "Excuse me John but I think I will stay in my flat?" John gaped at Sherlock's arrogancy. "Your flat?" Sherlock nodded. "Do keep up John." He just can't. "You don't EVEN PAY THE BILLS! I MAKE THE MONEY SO YOU CAN GET THE HELL OUT!" Sherlock looked taken aback. Finally, he was getting to him. "Well goodbye John." Sherlock cleared his throat. "I will text you when I have calmed down, which is not now so just go." Sherlock walked out the door as it slammed right behind him. John looked out the window to see Sherlock hailing a cab.

-See you soon. SH

John got the notification but didn't even open his phone.

Sherlock sat in the taxi wondering if this was what it was like to feel guilt. How is it that murderers get away with killing people without a care, but he has one fight with John and his mind palace is going on about one thing. Apologising. If he can go years without talking to Mycroft, he can stand this. He knows this is petty stubbornness. He also knows that John is ignoring him, giving that he hasn't responded. He probably hasn't even opened the text. He will try again for the sake of the friendship.

-I apologise for my words and for my actions. SH (unsent)

He was so busy texting John he didn't notice the truck skidding towards the taxi. His phone dropped to the floor. Message unsent. As he waited and waited for the ambulance to arrive he tried to see the extent of the damage but he was pinned back by something. He also noticed a large piece of metal dangerously close to his spleen. As he heard the sirens blast around him he drifted asleep.

He couldn't believe how insensitive Sherlock could be. Still it had been 2 hours and he was feeling more guilty than angry.

-I am ready to talk. JW

10 minutes and no response. He was probably either off on his own on a case or just stubbornly ignoring him. He tried again.

-Sherlock I don't know if you got that but you can come home now. JW

Still no replies. How is he as popular as he is? He is a total machine.

-I tried to talk to you but you are just being an ass. JW

-Ok go get stuffed stay out in the cold. JW

He was seething. He is the worst thing in the world right now. How could he doubt himself for one second.

-Ok this is seriously juvenile. Sherlock if you want to continue being my friend I suggest you answer your bloody phone. JW

John sat on the couch wondering why he was still friends with this awful man. He turned on the news.

-Did you hear about the accident? GL

John was wondering what he was talking about until he saw it on the news. Cab rammed into Scotland Yard by a truck. He noticed Greg in the background.

-Yeah. I see you over there. You alright? JW

-Perfectly. Well if you are at home, which I presume you are seeing as you aren't here so you probably heard it on the news, where is Sherlock? GL

-No he probably just went down to the Thames. He always goes there when we fight, I guess it makes him feel more dramatic you know? Like a scene from a movie where the beloved protagonist makes a small mistake and is turned away from his friends. That is probably how he sees it though, didn't do anything wrong. Oh well. Anyway don't worry about that bastard. - JW

-Hold that thought. GL

-What is it? JW

-Greg? JW

John decided he should probably send Sherlock another text.

-Guess what? You had Greg worried that is if you remember who that is? He has given you way too many chances. You are a right bastard, you know that? JW

-Well if you are going to be this childish you can be by yourself. I'm moving out. JW

John was astonished at how ignorant and petty Sherlock was acting. Did he really think he was the misunderstood, well meaning protagonist? Because this isn't a show and this was a real persons life he was messing with.

-Are you gonna check in on Sherlock? GL

-Tried. JW

-What do you mean tried? GL

-Not answering his bloody phone. JW

-Alright. Well if you're sure he is fine? GL

-Yes. Just go do your job Lestrade. JW

-Well actually I am at the airport now. Going on leave. Love to chat but boarding soon. Gotta put my phone on plane mode. See ya John. GL

-Fantastic. You deserve it. After all you have been putting up with Sherlock's petulant, or as he calls it 'eccentric' behaviour, for years. Have fun mate. JW

John had started browsing for flats nearby when he saw a small reasonably cheap one closer to the hospital. He saved the tab. Of course he was never actually going to move out but it was always there. Somewhat like a backup plan if Sherlock didn't show up. Not that he wanted him to. God he was so confused. He tried Sherlock's cell again. Nothing. He didn't bother leaving a voicemail, he knew Sherlock deleted them all, but John usually sent them anyway.

-Sherlock stop being childish. I am not actually moving out. Even if I was it shouldn't be like this. I should be mad at you, not the other way around. Though I desperately want to not be mad at you but there are just too many things to forgive Sherlock. This was just the tip of the ice-burg, if you actually listened to me you would know that she can't cope with something like this. I thought we could end as mates. Maybe see each other occasionally, but I guess you'd prefer I just leave silently. JW

No response.

-Why am I leaving? You don't pay rent! You don't even buy milk! I guess I can't stay there knowing that you were there. Why am I so irrationally angry? Maybe it is the fact that my sister finally reached out to me for help and you played me to end up sending her to jail. It is also the little things Sherlock. So goodbye I guess. JW

No response.

-I have heard stories where you just delete people from your life. Is that happening now? Are you doing that to me? I am worried Sherlock. It has been 3 weeks. A lot has happened I guess, but it doesn't feel the same. Greg is on leave for two more weeks. I am in my new flat. Alone. So bye Sherlock. JW

No response.  
Call went to message bank.  
Call went to message bank.  
Call went to message bank.  
Call went to message bank.

John was thoroughly bored with his life. He missed Sherlock. He missed Greg. At least he could see Greg at the airport tonight. Hos nights were filled with tea and crap telly then going to bed at nine.

He waited around watching infomercials until time came to pick up Greg. He had a mundane conversation and wished for nothing more then to be in bed. He hated how much he leaned on bedtime. Everything was centred around that, life was just like a filler while he waited to sleep and dream of the adventures they could be having. He even dreamt of mundane days with Sherlock, sometimes it was just Sherlock turning up and talking to him and they would be friends again. Desperate much?

Greg said his goodbyes and left Johns car. He walked up to the mailbox and grabbed a bunch of files. He walked up to the apartment and at his desk running his hands through his hair. So much work to do. He thought about Sherlock and decided against calling him. He wasn't exactly into niceties. Even when an old friend got back from holiday. He chose to just get on with work. He flipped through the cases, small burglary, possible dog-napping (?), stolen car, hit and run. He checked out the last one, familiar with the news story he saw on the t.v.

Taxi driver Arnold Fusher of the London Taxi Company was involved in a hit and run on the 12th of July. The driver was unaffected as the car hit the back left hand side of the vehicle. The driver was unable to describe the vehicle. Police are currently unable to continue the investigation as key witness is currently in a medically induced coma and surgeon Steve Pilton estimated a 5 week recovery period.

Lestrade opened his phone to check the date. Two weeks left. He would probably have to question the poor bloke. He continued on reading.

Victim suffered fractured skull, two broken ribs on the left side and one on the right with a green stick fracture. Spine injuries not yet confirmed. Bruising across the body. The victim also suffered a few small cuts and one large one across the thigh. Identity still remains confidential.

Who is so bloody important that the police weren't allowed to know? He texted Donovan.

-Who was the victim of the HAR 3 weeks ago? Has the case been solved?

-Sorry about that. You are allowed to know but I just can't tell you over the phone. We received an 'anonymous tip' about what would happen if the name went public. Tell you at work tomorrow though. You are still coming right? Haven't decided to stay on holiday and leave us? After all you and John are the only ones who can handle Holmes. Nah we are still working on it. You saw what it said about the victim.

She always somehow made him relax, no matter how cruel she was to Sherlock. He waited the night out until he was tired enough to sleep. He didn't dream of anything that night.

When he woke up he got dressed as fast as humanly possible and grabbed a slice of bread and ran down to the taxi rank. He was still in holiday mode and had slept past the usual time. He could normally rely on his body clock. He should have known better this time.

"Late." Was the word he was greeted with when he walked in. No hi, or hey or hello but a reminder that set his excitement to a screeching halt. This was the first altercation in the day that set him on edge.

Hours went by and Donovan was always too busy to discuss the hit and run. He just wanted to know who it was so he could settle down. That was number two.

Donovan worked through her lunch break and still had no time. He waited by counting down to 3:35 which was the oddly specific time that Sherlock bounded through the door often followed by an exhausted John. But that didn't happen. He didn't even know he was excited until he felt the crushing disappointment. I know they had a fight but they couldn't be too far apart. They are practically joined at the hip. Maybe they had figured something else out while he was away and they decided that was better than coming down every afternoon. This was number three of the reasons why Greg Lestrade was stressed.

He chatted to Molly who hadn't seen Sherlock either. Nor John. She even tried going round to 221B. Nothing. This was number four.

He walked out into the boring city with its boring weather. Everything was so boring without John and Sherlock. He decided to swing by the flat to see if what Molly said about the flat being a ghost town was true. He knocked on the door and waited patiently. He perked up when he heard someone on the stairs. He quickly realised it was too slow and light to be John or Sherlock. He watched the door open to reveal a tired Mrs Hudson.

"Hello Lestrade."

"Hello, is, um, Sherlock or John home?"

She laughed a sad laugh.

"No. They had a fight and John kicked Sherlock out. I heard that Sherlock was ignoring him and hadn't actually returned to the flat. Then uh John moved out. So no. No one lives here now. Finally some peace I guess. Though it gets lonely. Find them will you? Find my boys and bring them back. They won't last without each other."

Lestrade nodded and left. He got a call from Donovan telling him to meet her at the hospital. Maybe this has to do with the case. When he got there he waited around for her to come.

"Lestrade! Lestrade!"

He turned around and saw her waving her arms around signalling where she was.

"Sorry I didn't tell you about the victim today. I was so busy and I figured that it would be better for you to see them for yourself."

Why? Why would Lestrade benefit from seeing someone he didn't know all mangled? Well not mangled but it wasn't something he was looking forward to seeing anyway. He followed Donovan into the ward.

"Are you ready?"

He gave her a nod and she removed herself from the doorway. He had to hold onto the door frame for support.

"Sherlock."

"Why doesn't anyone know? Mrs Hudson is worried sick and John thinks Sherlock hates him!"

"Mycroft."

Lestrade sighed.

"I am calling John."

"You can't! We had a deal!"

"Stuff it."

He called John but got no response.  
He tried again and got an answer but it was just John saying he left that life behind and hanging up. He knew that was a lie and John was just as hurt as Sherlock would be if he were awake. If Lestrade had extended hos holiday like he was planning to, Sherlock would have woken up alone. He can't have that happen.

"Where does he live?"

Donovan scribbled down an address and he ran down the corridors and to a taxi. He payed the man quickly, yelling at him to keep the change from halfway up the path.


End file.
